“No!” I say, spinning back toward him. I move my hand as I do, trying to keep him back, and in the process I send a wave spraying up at him. I splash him square in the face. He stops, blinking and sputtering as the drops spill out of his eyes and mouth and nose.
It takes a moment for him to recover, and when he does, he stares at me with astonishment.
“Did you just splash me, Ms. Frazer?”
“I… not on purpose. I—”
He moves toward me, and I stumble back, instinctively throwing my arms out again and sending another surge of water at him.
But he’s prepared this time, and his eyes light up devilishly.
“Now it’s on,” he says, lunging for me.
I let out a squeak and splash him again, and he responds by splashing me back in turn. I gasp as the cool spray of water hits me in the face, but now the competitive side of me kicks in.
Calder Cunningham is going down.
He makes another lunge for me, and I twist out of his reach, diving underwater as his hands sweep past my hair.
I shoot through the water, and when I come up—some ten feet behind him—he has such a look of astonishment on his face that it’s my turn to burst out laughing.
“You have no idea who you’re dealing with,” I inform him.
His eyes light up at the challenge. He moves toward me again, and I send another spray of water in his face. When he’s blinking and coughing, I dive under once more.
I don’t know what’s come over me. It’s probably just the absurdity of the situation: swimming in a rooftop pool—in the rain—wearing a dress that probably costs more than my rent. I feel strange. Reckless. I’m playing along with Calder, letting him chase me through the water. I’m laughing and splashing and, dare I say it, actually enjoying myself.
But then, finally, I’m too slow—by accident or not, I can’t say—and Calder catches me by the arms. I gasp as he pulls me upright, spins me around to face him. The rain is coming down a little harder now, spilling down our faces, and I shake the wet hair from my eyes and look up at him.
His eyes are dark, intense, hungry. He’s breathing hard from our little game, but I find that I can hardly breathe at all. His fingers are firm around my upper arms, as if he’s afraid I’ll try and escape his grip. But I can’t move. I’m not sure I want to.
He moves so slowly that I sense more than see him leaning toward me. His lips are slightly parted. My own lips feel suddenly dry.
I want to say something—to stop him, maybe, or perhaps to urge him onward—but the words die on my tongue. He’s so close now that I can feel his warm breath on my cheek.
I can’t. I…
Thunder crashes overhead. I jump, and the moment is broken.
What the hell am I doing?
“We need to get out of the pool,” I say, pulling out of his grip.
“Lily—”
“I’d rather not get electrocuted.” As if to punctuate my point, lightning flashes overhead just as I reach the pool ladder. Apparently the universe agrees: this was a terrible idea.
What am I doing, splashing and flirting and encouraging him? I almost let him kiss me, for freak’s sake! This guy stands for everything I hate—am I really going to fall for his stupid little tricks?
I haul myself out of the water. The air is startlingly cold, and I wrap my arms around myself as I march back toward the pavilion. Louisa’s dress clings to my legs, but I try to move as gracefully as I can. I can feel Calder’s eyes boring into my back.
But why should I care if I look graceful or not? I let things get carried away in the secret passageway last night, but I thought I had enough self-control to behave rationally when we were face to face.
You hate him, I remind myself for the hundredth time today. Think of the Center. Think of your dad.
And I do. I close my eyes and remember my dad’s face the morning I left. He was poring over a stack of invoices, so absorbed that he never realized I was standing in the doorway. He looked so tired, so defeated, so old—and it’s all Calder’s fault.
I’m so caught up in my thoughts that I don’t realize he’s behind me until he tries to wrap a towel around my shoulders. I jerk away and glare up at him.
“You’re freezing,” he says, holding the towel up again.
I grab it out of his hand without another word. He has another towel for himself, and it only reminds me of the scene I witnessed last night in his bedroom. I turn around and begin drying myself off.
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he says after a moment. “It’s all right to admit that you’re attracted to me.”
“I’m not embarrassed. And I’m not attracted to you.”
I don’t sound very convincing.
“Why don’t we swing back by your room,” he says. “You can change, and we can continue our tour.”
He’s challenging me. I hear it in his voice. If I say no, if I refuse to go on with this tour, I might as well admit that he’s gotten under my skin.
“Fine,” I say.
I’m strong. Yes, I’ve had a few moments of weakness, but I’ve learned my lesson. It won’t happen again.
I only wish my body shared those convictions.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The first thing I do when I get back to my room is check my phone.
There’s a new message.
I take a deep breath and press the voicemail button before I have the chance to lose my nerve. I know without even looking at my missed calls that the message is from Garrett.
"Hey, Lils. Got your message. Give me a call back when you can." His voice is casual, as if my calling him was perfectly ordinary—as if I haven't spent the last several months actively ignoring his attempts to contact me. There’s no anger in his voice, but there’s no pleasure, either. His tone gives no indication of what he thinks of my request. I’m instantly suspicious. For all I know, he wants me to call him so he can laugh in my face.
But I'm not going to let myself take the coward's way out any longer. This isn't about me or my pride. It's about the Center. Before I can talk myself out of it, I click the button to call Garrett.
This time he picks up on the first ring.
"Hey," he says.
My stomach twists at the sound of his voice, and it's all I can do not to hang up on him.
I take a deep breath. "Hey. Did you get my message?"
I immediately want to smack myself. Of course he got my message.
"I know it's a lot to ask," I say quickly. "And I know you have no reason to help me, but I just wanted to…ask. You know how much the Center means to my dad. If you saw him, you'd see what this has done to him. We're trying everything we can. I'm desperate…” I cut myself off when I realize my rambling has twisted itself into begging.